They would never say...
-
Bumptious: Pink!! Are you bloody serious?! It's not a frickin' cosmetic its an explosive! Stop watching them stupid s%£#@y MaxFactor ads!! And the answer in case you didn't realise (because I wasn't banking my hopes on it) was Falsehood... Black! You know, like the night sky when you can see absolutely eff all, the opposite of white, which is mixed with red to make fricking pink anyway?! Was indeed the truth I sought... Now on your way through that pink door over there... oh hang on a minute! Its black isn't it??
Black! Like the endless blackness of space, that leads to the chasm of clams!
-
Treguard, to a team hesitating in the Series 2 guillotine room:
"GET TO THE CHOPPER!"
-
[A dungeoneer meets Mrs. Grimwold in the wellway room and tells her their quest object.]
Mrs. Grimwold: Never mind that, dearie. I've got a quest for you. I can't seem to find me cooking pot in all this mess. Can you 'elp old Mrs. G and find it?
Offscreen Voice #1: Don't bother, dungeoneer. The ogre's looked all over for it and it's not here. We're inclined to doubt its very existence.
Offscreen Voice #2: Yep, Mrs. G's pot is a myth.
Mrs. Grimwold: SHUDDUP, FESTUS!!
-
These are a set of crossover-type things they would never say. Can you guess what they are referencing?
BROLLOCHAN: What are tarts made of?
DUNGEONEER: Pepper, mostly.
BLOCKER: Password!
DUNGEONEER: Mornington Crescent.
BROLLOCHAN: What is that root?
DUNGEONEER: Mandrake.
BROLLOCHAN: I hunger!
DUNGEONEER: Lemon curry?
BROLLOCHAN: I hunger. You will give me knowledge. What is your name?
DUNGEONEER: [insert name here], the Dungeoneer.
BROLLOCHAN: What is your quest?
DUNGEONEER: I seek the sword/shield/cup/crown [delete as applicable].
BROLLOCHAN: What is the air-speed velocity of an unladen Smirkenorff, the Dragon?
DUNGEONEER: Too quick for you, mate!
-
Oracle: 'Near a tree by a river, there's a hole in the ground, where an old man of Aran goes around and around... The third step is the-'
Dungeoneer [replacing helmet and muting the Oracle]: 'Ah, crystal clear! We can work with that info. Let's make a move, guys.'
Oracle: "The first step won't hurt at all. The second only makes you wonder. The third will have you on your knees. You start bleeding, I start screaming. Screaming. Screaming. Screaming..."
Treguard: "That sounds like propaganda, team." [It is.]
-
Treguard: Don't fear Pickle. No one will ever take this show, hack it up, make a half assed college project out of it and call it after a recycled level name from the hit shoot 'em up game Halo! No one can possibly that insane!
Advisor: Don't take the chicken Leo... It's past its use by date!
Treguard: Make haste team, I'm dying for a dump!
Apologies for bumping this I really missed all the fun times
-
I say, how wonderful jester's corner is. I might make my home here. Muahahahahaha!
These characters would never say...
Sir Hugh de Wittless: Tarah! Tarah! Haloo! Haloo!
I've had enough now I need the loo!
Hordriss: waves hands around WICKED! WICKED! JUNGLE IS MAHSIV'!
Rothberry the Apothecary: wanders around J-J-Jive you a spell? No way foo'.
Aint nobahdy gat tam fo dat.
Gwendoline: Yeah I know I have a 4x4 and it burns petrol, but do I even care!?
Gretel: >:-] Muahahahahaha! AHAHAHAHA! cough! Cough! Wheeze! ><
-
Neil's advisors in series two:
"Great work team. We certainly cast a shroud over our opponents with our triumph in the Annual County Spelling Championship. This will put us in fine fettle to take on the Knightmare dungeon."
-
Treguard: For the love of all that is holy... Dispel: S, R, E, T, S, P, I, H!
(Lying awake in bed. Every night. In vain.)
-
[Fatilla's the Hun's only friend in the realm, the unnamed ogre that appears a couple of times in Series 4, has learned that Fatilla has a taste for sheep droppings (as hinted at in Quest 2). To cheer Fatilla up after the JOKE spell (Quest 7) wears off, the ogre fills a bag with sheep droppings and gives it to Fatilla.]
Ogre: I know you prefer the poo of rams but I could only find female sheep. Is that alright, Fatilla?
[Fatilla is very glum and not really listening properly.]
Fatilla: Didn't catch all of that.
Ogre: Ewe OK hun?
-
Treguard: Do not expect the Brangwen Shee to look pleased at your success, team. Nor at your failure. She has "resting b**** face".
-
Treguard: Play fair, or Fear play foul, all begins again at the allotted h- no, wait, that doesn't rhyme. Play fair, or Fear commit crime, all... no, that won't do. Erm... take care of yourselves. And each other.
Hordriss: WHAT IS THIS ONE DOESN'T EVEN
-
Treguard: Oh for Christ's sake team, surely you know this one
Merlin: Understand that those steps were needed. The builders weren't available on time to finish the room so we had to improvise
Gretel: silence (Unconscious, surrounded by her own teeth with a broken nose and a baseball bat sticking out of her mouth!)
Hordriss: Patience my young adventurer, one needs to light this joint before continuing...
-
Treguard: I wouldn't take that path team it's closed for resurfacing.
Treguard: This lady team is Mellisandre, the village mule, everyone has has a ride except the local jester.
Treguard: Are any of you three epileptic? Yes? Then I suggest you tell Julian to put the bottle down and just leave team.
Pickle: Coming through the door holding a parcel Your Amazon package has just arrived master.
Pickle: Wow! Either The Great Rift of Angar
has got longer and bigger... or Smirkenorff is having a bad diarrhoea day!
Pickle: Looking up at Treguard, almost a whisper Shall I fetch a can from the fridge master??
Pickle: Team approach Doorkis Well, I've already shown you what to do here team, I'm just popping off for a quick shower. I should be back before you finish, but if not, go through Dunkley Woods, watch out for Ariadne, and don't get killed. Won't be a tick...
Pickle: Christ, I feel a big dump coming on here!
Smirkenorff: Romanha, in the advertisement I specifically asked for a guardian, not a nanny!
Lissard: To Lord Fear No offence lordnesssssss, but if you're so clevernesssssss why don't you come up with a plan and do it yourself!
Lord Fear: The Sewers Of Goth! Miles upon miles of the filthiest stench and sewage. Impenetrable, except for a single rowing boat I conveniently left in the open!
Greystagg: Over a sort of tannoy system Good morning, this is a sister announcement, could whoever is leaving the front door open please shut it as dungeoneers, fruit sellers and double-glazing salesman keep getting in. Thank you.
Greystagg: Well WILL have revenge on you Fear! Witchaven, as you well know is all but destroyed...
Lord Fear: Oh it was me! Sorry I got so wasted last night I couldn't even remember if it was me or Raptor who defiled Heggartys' drawers. So glad I reminded him to bring a bag!
-
Treguard: Play fair, or Fear play foul, all begins again at the allotted h- no, wait, that doesn't rhyme. Play fair, or Fear commit crime, all... no, that won't do. Erm... take care of yourselves. And each other.
Treguard: And Pickle... write me a version that scans and rhymes.
Pickle: At once, master.
[A few moments later, Pickle hands Treguard a new parchment to read from.]
Treguard: 'Play thee fair, or Fear play foul / Game on's at the allotted owl.' Allotted owl?! What manner of nonsense is this? "Ah, here's the designated nocturnal bird, good, we can resume play."
Pickle: Well, if Fear's playing fowl...
Treguard: Are you trying to make an oaf of me, elf? Explain yourself. What kind of twit would allot an owl? Who?
Pickle: Twit... who...
-
Advisor: "I'm hungry."
-
McGrew: "Taran-tara, och aye the noo, 'tis bold McGrew to dance for you."
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